How to Spot an American

A Fourth of July Appreciation

Note: Since it’s summer, we have more time to read for pleasure, and also to tackle some toughies. Accordingly, I’m announcing the first-ever Happy Wanderer book club! The Turn of the Screw, a Victorian ghost story by Henry James, is quite short (about 100 pages) but is famously ambiguous. Let’s solve the mystery together! What the heck is going on in this book? Beginning on July 21, and continuing for two posts, we’ll discuss The Turn of the Screw. The book is in the public domain and is available here for free, online, or you can find it in your local library or bookstore. And if you’re not interested in reading the book, or you don’t have time, no worries! You can still enjoy the conversation. Happy reading! And now on to this week’s post.

I suspect most of us have heard the joke that begins “In heaven, the chefs are French, the police are English, [etc.]” Having lived in the Czech Republic and in Switzerland for the past several years, I was inspired to make up my own version:

In heaven, people are as friendly as the Americans, the bureaucrats are Swiss, and the cheap beer is Czech. In hell, the people are as friendly as the Swiss, the bureaucrats are Czech, and the cheap beer is American.

Photo by Joel Moysuh on Unsplash.

So obviously the joke trades in unfair stereotypes. In defiance of their reputation for being stern and strict, Swiss people are in my experience warm, kind, and generous, especially if you are lost or run into trouble on a hike or are just out and about with your dog.

Look at that face! No wonder everyone wants to stop to chat when I’m walking my dog!

However, it is true that mass-market Czech beers like Pilsner Urquell are transcendently refreshing and delicious and—until a few years ago when the Czech government passed a law requiring at least one item on restaurant menus to cost less than beer—literally cheaper than water. It is true that it is a joy to work with the pleasant and efficient Swiss bureaucrats, who dispatch my paperwork in mere minutes and with a smile to boot. And it is true that Americans are wonderfully friendly.

In my travels, I enjoy playing a game I call Spot the American. Last month I attended a performance by a chamber orchestra composed of young musicians from around the world. Without even looking at the biographies in the program, I could spot the American right away. He stood confidently, smiled openly, and just seemed more brash and game than the other musicians, who were rather reserved. Many of us have been feeling pessimistic about our country lately and suspicious of our fellow Americans. But if we’re going to work together to tackle the tough problems facing us, we need to be able to get along with and maybe even like one another. So I think it’s useful to remind ourselves that we Americans do have many terrific traits. In honor of the Fourth of July, and in the spirit of encouraging us to hang together, lest we all hang separately, I’d like to celebrate us in this post.

We’re open and friendly. A crowded train to Venice stops at Milan, and a young woman enters and sits down across the aisle from us. The train has scarcely pulled out of the station when she starts petting a border collie lounging on the floor (dogs are a common and much-appreciated feature of European trains) and chatting the owner up. Of course she’s American. Pretty soon people all around us are laughing and sharing stories about our pets and where we’re from. It’s always like this when I meet Americans over here. People who come from countries with lots of immigration—for example Canada, Australia, and of course the US—tend to smile more, and our smiles are wide.

Just yesterday I had a lovely conversation with a French woman. At the end of our talk, she handed me this postcard and said, “This card is perfect for you because you are an American.”

We’re more outgoing with strangers we encounter. Researchers think we have developed this friendly approach to strangers as a way to get along in a diverse society. And the approach works; when we share friendly conversations with strangers, we almost always end up happier and more energized than before.

I consider this mood boost to be a service we Americans perform overseas. Most people—even those from less-smiley cultures—respond to our outgoing nature in kind. Before moving to Prague, people warned me that if I walked around smiling at everyone like a typical American, Czechs would think I was an idiot. I decided I didn’t care and greeted every person I met with a huge, open-hearted smile and a full-throated “dobrý den” (hello). And guess what? Those dire warnings turned out to be a slander on the lovely Czech people. Over the course of my four years living in Prague, not only did every single person I encountered return my smile and greeting, but I became buddies with my Czech neighbors. We’d wave cheerily to each other, stop to shoot the breeze (which allowed me to practice my Czech), admire each other’s dogs, and continue on our way, spirits lifted.

We break stupid rules. Try this thought experiment: You’re standing at an intersection, and the light is red. There are no cars to be seen. What do you do? I’m guessing you don’t wait for the light to change, but you walk across, right? Or say you’re in the middle of the block, and the shop you want is directly opposite you on the other side of the street. Again there are no cars anywhere. Of course you jaywalk rather than wasting valuable minutes in trudging to the corner, across, and back. But if you cross against the light or jaywalk in Europe, you will immediately out yourself as an American. Woe betide anyone who does this in Prague in the presence of a babička (a grandma or old lady), because she will scold you for setting a bad example for the children. But we Americans, rebellious types that we are, have noticed that no one will come to any harm if we cross against the light on an empty street. And our rule-breaking isn’t always trivial either. We have broken pernicious rules too: What was the Civil Rights Movement if not thousands of courageous Americans breaking stupid, evil rules in order to make our country live up to its values and Constitution?

We’re casual and egalitarian. We also break rules that impose formality and hierarchies. We call people by their first names rather than, say, Herr Professor Doktor Doktor (as was the case with a professor I know, when he was at a conference in Germany). Michelle Obama famously “broke protocol” on a visit to Buckingham Palace, when she hugged Queen Elizabeth. Queen Elizabeth, far from objecting to such informality, “warmly welcomed” the hug.

We tend to dress down, and we have given the working world the gift of casual Fridays, business casual, and Silicon Valley–style hoodies and jeans—all of which are much more comfortable and less distracting than constricting three-piece suits and ties, or dresses, pantyhose, and high heels. We wear comfortable clothes even at fancy events like concerts. When I lived in Prague, a man groused in a letter to the editor that “foreigners in sweaters” should not be allowed to attend classical concerts. But I got the last laugh. My husband and I went to a classical concert that very night, and I was appropriately attired for the freezing, sleety weather in my sweater and hiking boots. I may not have passed muster with the xenophobic letter-writer, but at least I was able to safely navigate the icy steps of the concert hall.

My favorite recent example of joyous American informality is this video of the Jamaican-American rapper Shaggy, after he received an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts degree at Brown University. Watch all the new graduates singing and dancing in the aisles—and I bet you’ll be bopping along too!

We make things convenient. Most of the time I participate enthusiastically in the European practice of shopping multiple times per week and of patronizing not one large emporium but rather many small businesses. I buy my vegetables from one nearby farm, my bread from another, and my cheese from farms up in the Alps.

Hello, ladies! Thank you for the cheese! (This is literally true. The cheese in my fridge is made from milk that came from these exact cows.)

Grocery stores here don’t sell over-the-counter remedies, so if I need a refill of ibuprofen, it’s off to the pharmacy for me, and even such basics as lightbulbs necessitate a trip to the electronics store.

I stand corrected! I just got back from our local grocery store, where I was confronted by this display. This is the first time that I have ever seen more than a few, lonely lightbulbs there. Do you think the store manager heard me complaining?

This eccentric categorization reaches its apotheosis in the Czech Republic, where coffee filters are for sale not in grocery stores or coffee shops, but only in papirnictví (stationery stores). (When you think about it, this has a certain logic—coffee filters are paper, after all.) So every time I visit the US I am grateful for Target and stores like it, where you can buy all of the above items, plus (to list some random other purchases) throw pillows, a Swiffer Wet Jet, a tool kit, sunscreen, and a vaccination against shingles. In one trip! When you are oppressed by too many errands and have insufficient time to complete them, nothing beats a US-style superstore.

We’re generous. For the past decade, the US has held an honorable distinction—we lead the world in generosity. We’re number one in helping strangers, volunteering, and donating money. There is a reason that panhandlers in Europe don’t operate in neighborhoods populated by locals, but prefer instead the tourist areas where they will find soft-hearted Americans. (Our generosity likely stems from our lack of a social safety net—we unfortunately have more people who need charity than you will find in countries that provide for citizens’ basic needs.) Another way we Americans stand out overseas is that we tip well. Of course, we do this because of our laws, which permit restaurant workers to be paid as little as $2.13 per hour (for the record, I think restaurant workers, like all workers, should receive a living wage). Readers, when visiting Europe, please ignore the advice from guidebooks and travel websites telling you to round up the bill for the tip. Go ahead and tip generously, like we do at home: I can attest that European restaurant workers appreciate our big tips!

Speaking of restaurants, we love great food. We love exploring new cuisines abroad, and our own cuisine ranks among the best in the world. Yes really. I have always found remarks about bad American food to be unfair, because the commenters are usually comparing the worst US food—fast food, say—to some other country’s finest dishes. Our secret is that our newest citizens bring their cooking with them. Even though I grew up in the frozen north, I was smack-dab in the middle of outstanding Vietnamese, Ethiopian, and Sri Lankan restaurants, thanks to the immigrants from those lands who threw in their lot with us. Beyond the wonderful variety of “ethnic” foods, American cooking itself is varied, creative, and delicious. Think of regional delights like spicy Cajun dishes, fresh and local California cuisine, seafood on the East Coast from Maine down to Maryland, New York delis and New Jersey diners, southern barbecue, Tex-Mex tacos, or even the humble Minnesota hotdish. And speaking of American delicacies, here’s a recipe.

US-Style Sour Pickles

When we first moved overseas, I made a horrifying discovery: US-style sour pickles are not a thing over here. You can find pickles, of course, but they are the sweet kind, which I abhor. Our whole family loves sour pickles, so I had to learn to make my own. These pickles aren’t strictly authentic, because I help the pickling process along with vinegar, but they taste great and are perfect for any Fourth of July barbecue.

Ingredients:

6 Kirby cucumbers (or 3 larger cucumbers), quartered lengthwise

4T kosher salt

2T pickling-spice mix (see note below)

1c white wine vinegar

1-2c water

chopped fresh dill (optional)

Method:

1. Place the cucumbers in a colander in a single layer (I usually need two colanders), sprinkle liberally with salt, and leave to drain for at least an hour.

2. Meanwhile, put 2T kosher salt and the spice mix into a pot with the vinegar and water, bring to a boil, remove from heat, cover, and leave to cool slightly.

3. Shake the excess salt and liquid off the cucumbers and pat them very dry on paper towels.

4. Place the cucumbers in a single layer in a Pyrex 9 x 13” lasagna pan and pour the vinegar mixture over everything to cover.

5. If desired, scatter the chopped, fresh dill over the pickles.

6. Leave the pickles out overnight to do the Vulcan flavor meld. In the morning, flip them over on their bellies so that their skins are facing up and their underparts are submerged in the brine, and then cover and refrigerate. After another day, they will be ready, and they will be good for about a week (but you will have devoured them long before then).

Note: You can buy pickling-spice mixtures at Penzys and other spice shops, but I like to make my own. I mix whole cloves, fennel seeds, dill seeds, whole allspice, red pepper flakes, and crumbled bay leaves and shake everything up in a jar. But you can use any of your favorite spices.

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How about you, readers? Are you patriotic? What do you appreciate most about your fellow Americans? Please share your thoughts in the comments—and enjoy the picnics, parties, and fireworks!

The Tidbit

Chanticleer represents so much of what’s good about our country. Chanticleer’s singers come to the US from around the world, they strive for artistry and beauty together, and they support American music both old and new. Enjoy this stunning performance of “Shenandoah,” one of my favorite American folk songs, which pays tribute to the beauty of our land.